


Day Too Soon

by whyyesitscar



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-17
Updated: 2011-11-17
Packaged: 2017-11-26 02:17:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/645451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whyyesitscar/pseuds/whyyesitscar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was how it went. Santana had an order to her life. And one day it all came crashing down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day Too Soon

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by/title taken from the song "Day Too Soon" by Sia.

**I.**

This was how it went.

Santana Lopez had an order to her life. Get through school, avoid her parents, make time (a _lot_ of time) for sweet lady kisses with Brittany, sing in Glee club, completely kick ass at Cheerios.

(Lately, she’d been changing her order a little. She’d gotten into the habit of giving Brittany a lot more things than sweet lady kisses, things like feelings and smiles and laughs and tears and everything. It was still her order, though).

And in between all that were little sprinklings of striking fear into the hearts of anyone who came across her path. Because everyone she insulted, everyone she glared at, everyone she belittled—they had the ability to mess up everything if she ever forgot to be on the offensive.

Santana Lopez had dreams. They might not have been as sophisticated as Rachel’s dreams or Brittany’s dreams, but they were hers. She was going to keep up her awesome grade point average and go to junior college and then she’d find a job that paid the bills so that Brittany could keep dancing and dreaming.

(Lizards are territorial, didn’t you know that?)

And then one day someone stole her order, and for the second time, Santana’s dreams crumbled because of a stupid boy.

/

(That day she wore Brittany’s shirt was the day she’d decided she was done with stupid boys.

She’d been pretty good about sticking to that. She just forgot that no one else knew. Except for Brittany. Brittany knew everything.

It took a slap to let the world know, and Santana felt sorry. But that was something she could keep to herself).

/

Santana had expected a lot of yelling. She expected Finn to fight back, for Rachel to let loose the most indignant of all diatribes, for everyone else to finally pipe up, for Mr. Schue to fail to restore peace.

She didn’t count on the silence.

(It was bad).

She didn’t count on the tears.

(They were worse).

When things got bad, Santana let her emotions run away. They ran away and hid until it was safe.

This time, there was nowhere to hide. This time, she let her feet run, too.

/

It wasn’t Brittany who found her first. Santana made sure not to go anywhere Brittany would find her because everything about the blonde would explode her. She was still looking for somewhere to hide. Brittany would want to hide her in her arms, but those arms, the hands attached to them, the fingers that would press just the right way into her back, she couldn’t deal with them.

So instead of taking the left that led to the track, she turned right. And instead of running forward toward the music room, she darted inside a classroom and sat down quickly underneath the teacher’s desk.

(It was the slamming of the door that gave her away. She forgot that you had to be quiet when you were trying to hide. Santana couldn’t take any more silence).

“She’s looking for you, you know.” His voice was soft and unassuming, and yet it still fell too loudly on her ears. She couldn’t help wincing.

“Go away, Ladyface,” she muttered. Her voice was soft and not as malicious as she wanted it to be. She winced again because it was all so wrong.

“No,” he answered. He sat on top of the desk; Santana could see his legs swinging in front of her face. They almost hit her once. She timed her breath to the back and forth of his ridiculous white sneakers—close ( _inhale_ ) and then far away ( _exhale_ ) again. It was hypnotizing.

“My dad asked me about you,” he said. His feet got slower, but Santana’s breathing quickened. “He showed me the video and asked me what to do. He didn’t know. It was easier for him, you know? He’s my father, and he’s a good one. His kid’s in trouble, and he’s going to do anything to make it better. But you’re not his kid. He asked me what he should do because he doesn’t know you.”

Santana held her breath. In front of her, Kurt’s feet had stilled.

“I told him all he needed to know was that you were in trouble.”

She didn’t say anything. She tried not to sniffle. Kurt crossed his ankles and drummed his fingers lightly on the wood above her head. The taps sounded far away, echoing as if they meant something. There was only an inch separating her from Kurt. It felt like far less.

Kurt uncrossed his ankles, preparing to leave. Santana grabbed onto his pants before he could, tugging at them until he squatted down to her level. He peered at her curiously, just like he was interested in what she was doing. Just like it was another day and he was puzzled by her actions. Not like he was sad for her or anything. He was just waiting, and when she scooted over, he wriggled in beside her, ducking his head to fit comfortably.

They both stuck their legs out from under the desk and waited together.

“Will I ever stop being scared?” She used her little voice, the one she reserved for Brittany and the moments when the world decided to be mean to her, instead of the other way around.

Kurt stalled for so long that Santana wasn’t sure she’d even asked the question.

“Yes,” he finally said.

“When?”

“Not for a long time.”

She turned to look at him. His eyes were far away, seeing something so far in the distance that it doubled back to rest inside his head.

“Hey,” she said, nudging him with her shoulder. “Is it worth it?”

His smile was sad but his eyes were hopeful. “Absolutely.”

She let out a shaky breath and unconsciously smoothed down her dress. “Okay. Cool.” Her second exhalation was steadier, longer. The third one was almost normal. She slid forward until she could stand up again. Kurt was right behind her, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot.

“I, um…”

“Thanks,” Santana said quickly, cutting off any mortifying attempts at bonding.

“You’re welcome,” Kurt answered. Then he hesitated. “But I was actually going to say…well, I can talk to Finn if you want.”

Santana was back to gasping again, because all this talk of better futures, and fearless futures—it was gone. She was back in the present again, and it sucked so much that it took her breath away. She averted her eyes and gagged on a sob. Kurt’s arms shot out to comfort her but she shied away. She should have stayed beneath the desk.

Her voice was a leaf dragging through mud, and it kept losing pieces. “I need Brittany, please.”

/

If Brittany led her past the auditorium, Santana didn’t know. She didn’t know what everyone else was doing. It seemed so wrong that they might be getting on with their lives when hers had just come crashing down.

She didn’t know anything until she was deposited onto Brittany’s bed, and then everything dissolved into chaos.

**II.**

This was how it went.

It wasn’t the nights that were hard. It wasn’t even hard to be nice.

(When all of your dreams turn into nightmares because you were mean, you do a lot of thinking. You probably even do a little changing. Santana did.)

It wasn’t hard to hold Brittany’s hand, or kiss her, or sit close to her in class because sometimes Santana just needed to know she was there. Minus the kissing, she’d been doing that for ages.

It was the people that were hard. It was exactly what she’d been afraid of, the looks and jeers and whispers that she heard loud and clear.

It was the way Rachel didn’t know whether to comfort Santana or stand by Finn.

It was the way people got quiet whenever she had something to say, like she was going to start speaking some sad lesbian language.

It was the way Puck kept giving her one-armed hugs and suddenly Quinn wanted to _talk_.

(It was the way she still had to look at Finn’s stupid face every day).

It was the way that Brittany had to break into Santana’s house one night to get some of her stuff because her parents had left a message telling her not to come home.

It was the way Santana waited anxiously that whole night, the way she actually cuddled Brittany’s fat cat.

It was the way that Blaine kept looking at her with big, pitiful eyes and Kurt kept scolding him.

/

(But when they were in bed and Santana could curl into her favorite person in the world; when she could bury her face in blonde hair that smelled of coconuts and memories; when she could tuck her knees almost to her chin and feel long arms wrap themselves around her torso…

That was when Brittany made everything easier).

**III.**

This was how it went.

Things don’t magically stitch themselves up.

But if you forget about them for a while, you might find a needle on the sidewalk one day.

**IV.**

This was how it went.

Eventually, the smiles came back. Music was fun again. Being co-captain of the Cheerios actually meant something.

Santana knew that Brittany had said something to Finn because he showed up to Glee practice one day with an actual bucket full of breadsticks and a note.

After the fifth bucket, she finally opened the envelope.

( _I wish I was brave like you._ )

She let him give her two more buckets (one for every day of the week; it was a nice number).

Eventually she smiled at him and meant it.

It wasn’t an easy fix. But when new gashes popped up, Santana had an endless supply of thread made of shimmering blonde hair, just waiting for a needle.

**V.**

This was how it went.

Santana Lopez had a certain order to her life.

(1.Brittany.

2\. Brittany.

3\. Brittany.)

Beyond that, nothing else mattered.


End file.
